


Fake Names, Real Feelings

by HeroesOfOlympus



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista Steve Rogers, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Coffee Shop Owner Steve Rogers, Everytime Bucky changes his look something happens, Fluff, I might be obsessed with short hair bucky, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, One Homophobic Word, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve's eyes are like the sky and Bucky's are like the ocean okay, Stucky - Freeform, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 04:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroesOfOlympus/pseuds/HeroesOfOlympus
Summary: 5 times Steve was given a clearly fake name from the unfairly good looking customer, and 1 time he was told the truth.





	Fake Names, Real Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! This is my first fic on ao3 so I apologise if I messed up the tagging process or anything. aNYWAY, this turned out longer than I expected but I'm kinda proud of it so I hope y'all will enjoy it!  
> @vivilevone on Tumblr: Merry Christmas!! I hope I did your prompt justice and you actually like this fic. Hope you have an amazing day ahead of you and if you ever want/need to ramble to someone about Marvel or Stucky... ;)
> 
> Prompt: Steve/Bucky, probably a G or maybe T-rated coffee shop AU where Steve owns a coffee shop and Bucky comes in every day and gives increasingly hilarious fake names for his drink. Or, I mean, do whatever you want with the prompt. That's just my idea.

1.

It had been a rather slow afternoon in Steve's coffeeshop. A few students from nearby schools and businesspeople from the towers that cluttered the city were scattered around the shop, the rich aroma of freshly grinded coffee beans filling the air and some light background music playing through the speakers. 

Setting down the third cup of coffee on the same table over the side of the counter, Steve shook his head with a bemused smile while the high school student seated at said table desperately surged forward to grab the drink. "Thanks, Mr Rogers!" Peter grins, words rushing out of his mouth before he proceeds to gulp down the coffee. 

Hips leaning against the counter, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, giving a knowing smile when he noticed the dark circles stamped under Peter's eyes and the way the student kept glancing over at his computer with furrowed brows. "You got an essay due, huh?" Steve's question was immediately met with a grimace, the brunet finally setting the coffee cup back onto the table and his fingers returning back to hover over the keyboard. 

Noticing the history topic typed out in bold on the screen, Steve leaned over the counter, reading through what Peter had already written and politely pointing out a few mistakes and adding suggestions to certain areas. Fingers flying across the keyboard, Peter typed whilst listening attentively, letting out a content sigh once done writing, back hitting against the seat as he peered up at Steve with admiration shining in his eyes. "You're a saviour, Mr Rogers, thank you!"

Chuckling, Steve gave an embarrassed shrug just as someone gave a loud, intentional cough. Giving a small jolt of surprise, the blond gave Peter an apologetic smile before turning his body around, only for his eyes to land on one of the most good looking men he had ever seen. "Hi! Sorry if you've been waiting for a while. What can I get for you today?" With an embarrassed blush, Steve remembered to give his usual greeting after staring a tad bit too long at the customer.

"'s fine," The man gave a small shrug, his voice low and slightly raspy, like he hadn't been using it often. As Steve typed in his plain order of one black coffee to go, he gave a quick glance over the register, taking in the customer's grubby appearance. Despite the sweltering weather outside, he wore baggy old clothes and gloves covered in grime wrapped his hands. His greasy dark hair brushed against his shoulders and stubble lined his face, while deep crescents were set under his tired ocean eyes. 

And _yet _.__

____

____

He was easily one of the most beautiful men the blond had ever seen. Under the layers of clothes and grime, Steve could see he had a good physique and a chiseled face that could possibly belong to a model. Steve didn't find it weird that the man was wearing multiple layers, maybe he was sick or something, but what he couldn't wrap his mind around was why in the world he would be wearing gloves. 

Pondering this while the machine made the customer's coffee, Steve grabs a disposable cup and a sharpie, turning back to face the man. "Name?" The man suddenly looked lost, eyes flickering all over the place before landing on the bag of beans in front of him. "Bean?" He says in an unsure manner and immediately a self-resenting look falls over his face.

"Your name is Bean?"

"Bean... Ard. Beanard."

"Do you mean Bernard?"

At this point, Steve was stifling a laugh, opting to squeeze the sharpie in his hand to prevent his laughter from slipping out right in front of the customer. The man looked absolutely embarrassed but upon seeing Steve fighting down an amused grin, there was a sudden glint in his blue eyes as he answered confidently, "No, I know my name and it's Beanard,"

Raising a brow, Steve grinned cheekily whilst giving a mocking three-fingered salute, carefully scrawling the name out, before halting and drawing a tiny coffee bean next to it. He then proceeded to pour the coffee into the cup, sliding it over the counter, drawling out, "Have a good day, _Beanard _," The man gave a sarcastic smile, eyes flickering down to Steve's name tag before refocusing back to the blond's face as he hummed thoughtfully, leaving the shop without another word.__

____

____

 

2.

"-and I told him, 'I don't care if you're royalty, when I say stop bringing home stray cats, I mean _stop bringing home stray cats _',"__

____

____

When Steve saw who walked through the door, he immediately tuned out the rest of what Sam was ranting on about, interrupting him mid-sentence, "I think you've made Peter wait long enough for his coffee, don't you?" Sulking, Sam snatched the steadily growing cold cup of coffee, grumbling under his breath about how 'the little shit didn't deserve any coffee' before stomping over to where Peter had been waiting patiently.

Today, 'Beanard's' dark hair was twisted up in a messy low bun and the bags under his eyes were considerably lesser than the last time he was here, which was a week ago. Giving his usual greeting, Steve took the man's order, typing in the same choice of one black coffee to go with a rather badly concealed sigh. "You got a problem with my order?" 'Beanard' questioned, raising a single brow in response and to his surprise, Steve immediately gave a firm nod.

"C'mon, I mean, an order of one plain black coffee is fine but why not try something else that's actually interesting or get a pastry at the very least?" Mirroring the man's expression, Steve raised an eyebrow challengingly, giving a small shrug. Giving an over-exaggerated sigh, the brunet stated frankly, "You're just trying to cheat me out of my money by convincing me to buy, what? An overpriced drink that probably doesn't even taste that good?"

Clicking his tongue, Steve refused to rise up and give a reaction to the man's jabs at his coffee making skills, instead answering smoothly, "You're going to drink whatever I'm going to give you and take back your own words, you stingy Stooge," Before 'Beanard' could say a thing, Steve turned on his heel, pulling down ingredients from the shelf above.

Working efficiently around the familiar area, Steve took pride in the short time he took to whip up his coffeeshop's signature drink that he had designed by himself from scratch. As the coffee machine whirred to life, he turned back to face the bemused brunet, asking with a slight edge to his voice for the man's name.

"You already know my name, come on, _Steve _," The brunet drew out Steve's name, using an annoying, arrogant tone that the blond did not appreciate. The man was childishly proud of the fact that he knew Steve's name while Steve didn't know his, offering a sly smirk for good measure. In a fit of irritation, the barista smiled wide without flashing his teeth, faking genuine confusion as he replied, "I have so many customers, I can hardly remember all their names. I only remember the important ones,"__

____

____

Huffing, the man crossed his arms over his chest and Steve swore he saw his eyes flicker upwards in a quick eye roll, which he couldn't help scoffing at a bit too loudly. "My name's... Stingy Stooge." The customer stated, using the name Steve had referred to him as, that damn cocky smirk flashing onto his face again. Scoffing, the coffeeshop owner shook his head with a tiny smile, grabbing the sharpie and writing down the given name, adding another tiny drawing next to it, this time it being an anchor chained to a stack of cash. 

Once done pouring the finished drink into the cup, he called out the name, which gained some snickers from nearby customers. When 'Stingy Stooge' approached the counter, Steve presented it with a flourish, unknowingly offering the proud grin that all his friends had labelled "Steve's Golden Retriever Look". Taking the cup, the man scrutinised the drink and with an encouraging look from Steve, he took a hesitant sip. 

Just when the brunet was about to lie and offer an average review of the honestly incredible drink, he saw the badly hidden hopeful look on Steve's face, his eyes sparkling blue and his smile wavering, and the words died down in his throat. "It's really good," The man admitted, taking pleasure in how Steve immediately brightened up, a big grin spreading across his face and his cheeks pinking just a bit. 

When Steve saw the customer opening his wallet, his hand whipped forward on reflex, wrapping around the wrist of the other man and stopping him from taking any money out. Realising what he'd done, the barista felt an embarrassed blush creep up his cheeks and he quickly drew his hand back. 

"It's on the house. I know you're going to end up choosing to buy this drink every time you come here from now on, so you're gonna be giving me a lot of business in the future," Mustering up what he hoped was a winning smile, Steve tried his best to fight down the heat on his cheeks, wringing his hands nervously under the counter.

Huffing out a laugh, the man shook his head with a badly suppressed smile and Steve took note of the way he looked, feeling the urge to sketch out the man. Raising up the cup of coffee in thanks, he then moved his arm back down to his side, not before Steve caught sight of his sleeve sliding up, revealing what he swore was the glint of metal.

Narrowed eyes full with curiosity followed the brunet's jacket-clad back as he walked out the shop, up till he turned round the corner and disappeared from sight.

 

3.

Summer turned too quickly to Autumn, and the sweltering heat simmered down to a cooling weather, boosting Steve's business as more customers came in to get a warm drink to fight against the increasing cold. 

When the steady flood of customers in for their morning coffee gradually left the shop and the hour hand struck 10, Steve began to whip up a new recipe he had been working on for a week, moving with purpose around the space behind the counter. Exactly at the usual 10:10am, a familiar brunet strolled into the store, hands stuffed into his pockets and downcast blue eyes suddenly brightening upon stepping into the coffeeshop.

"Sam," He greeted with a curt nod, a smirk dancing across his lips when the other barista flipped him off before sputtering out complaints when Steve smacked his arm. Gesturing at Sam to attend to another waiting customer, Steve turned back around to face the man who was now a regular that came at least thrice a week.

A regular whom Steve _still _didn't know the real name of.__

____

____

"Hey, you shaved!" Steve observed with a slight flush, eyes tracing the other man's now exposed jaw free from stubble and noting how he looked so much more cleaner. The now clean-shaved man mindlessly ran his fingers along his jaw, looking unsure and a bit uncomfortable. Seeing the worried look on the other's face, Steve reached over the counter to pull the gloved hand off the brunet's face, offering a consoling smile. "I like it- I mean, you look good, don't worry."

The shy upturn of the brunet's lips made it worth the slight embarrassment the barista had felt after stuttering those words and with a cough, the blond quickly removed his hand from around the other's wrist. Desperate to change the topic, as well as to get the newly shaven man to stop staring at Steve's pinked cheeks, the coffeeshop owner remembered the drink he had made and quickly grabbed it.

"I've got a new drink for you to try," He said with a beam and the other man's eyes lit up with amusement while Steve proceeded to ask for his name with an exasperated knowing look. The two had developed certain traditions over the months that passed by; one of which was whenever Steve had a new recipe to try out, he would get the brunet to taste-test a whole cup of it for free, and another being the blond always asking for the other's name and always getting a clearly fake but hilarious response.

"My name's Buchanan."

"That... is ridiculous." 

"What's wrong with 'Buchanan'?"

Scoffing, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, meeting the customer's amused look with a raised brow. "C'mon, the last time that name was heard was all the way back in the 19th century for our 15th President. It's an old, unused and overall, a ridiculous name that you chose out of nowhere. Also, I'm not even going to attempt to write out that entire long name,"

The customer gave his usual shit-eating grin, used whenever Steve complained about one of his made up names, knowing that the blond would unknowingly take the bait and write down whatever name he had just been given, just to wipe that smirk off. "Don't you think it's a bit rude you're refusing to write down the name _your _customer has given you? It's long but it's my name," The brunet says, his smirk widening further upon noticing the scowl on Steve's face.__

____

____

Snatching a sharpie, the barista hummed under his breath in thought before scrawling 'Bucky' onto the cup, accompanied by a small drawing of the American flag. A self-satisfied smile stretched across his features as he loudly called out the name 'Bucky', watching with amusement as the brunet walked up with well hidden embarrassment after he had been nudged by another customer.

"I said Buchanan, not Bucky," He hissed out, looking disgruntled while the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise. Shrugging nonchalantly, Steve returned 'Bucky's' previous shit-eating grin with one of his own. Just when it seemed like the customer was going to turn around, he hesitated before facing Steve again, chewing on his lip and looking nervous, an expression the coffeeshop owner rarely saw on him.

"Do you wanna go on a-"

He was immediately cut off by another customer screaming at the top of his lungs at a couple by the window seat, looking over with frustration and a tiny hint of relief at the commotion. Hearing the slurs the angry customer threw at the flinching couple, the brunet took a determined step forward before a familiar blond ran ahead of him.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Steve says firmly, fists clenched at his sides as he shook with uncontrollable rage, his usual kind eyes now hardened and narrowed. The shouting customer easily towered over the Steve, even though the latter was already considered quite tall, and spat, "What, are you a fag like them too?"

Silence falls over the entire shop, waiting with slight worry and anger as to how Steve, who wore a small bi flag enamel pin on his apron, would react. In a blink of an eye, Steve reared his arm back before punching the man square in the face, the bones cracking rather loudly under the impact. Just as the other man looked ready to retaliate, 'Bucky' appeared by the blond's side, using his left arm to lift the asshole off the ground and drag him out the back door with a thundering look.

And when the minutes trickled into hours, and Steve closed up the coffeeshop, Bucky never came back, and the barista had a sinking suspicion it had something to do with the sleeves of his shirt sliding down to reveal what seemed to be an entire left arm made of metal.

 

4.

It had been nearly a month before Steve saw Bucky again.

While he organised the coffee beans, he could feel the concerned look Sam practically burned into the back of his head. No matter how hard he tried to cover up his sadness by being overly enthusiastic and greeting every single customer with slightly more vigour than usual, Steve should've known that Sam would notice the bags under his eyes and how almost all his smiles were faked; it was impossible to get anything past his best friend.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat and the shop owner turned around, the far too stretched smile he plastered on fading away once he saw who stood there. Bucky looked almost worse than Steve did, eyes looking as tired as the first time he had entered the coffeeshop and a small bit of stubble had grown back messily. The two stared at each other in stunned silence before Bucky ordered a black coffee, so similar to their first encounter except so much had developed between them since then.

"Name?" Steve managed to get out clearly, feeling a small sense of achievement for not stumbling over that single word or deciding to shout at the brunet. A bemused, nostalgic smile flashes across Bucky's face and he says meekly, "RoboCop." Steve chokes out a clipped laugh, hand shaking as he writes out the name, deciding after a quick hesitation to draw a robot underneath it.

Once done pouring the coffee, Steve stood frozen to the spot, realising with a slight desperation that he didn't want to serve the drink and have Bucky walk out the store. Millions of thoughts and feelings swarmed through his head, too fast for him to decipher and comprehend. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him why he didn't come back.

Wanted him to _stay _.__

____

____

"Can we talk?" He asks the moment he places the coffee on the counter and Bucky moves to pick it up. Relief floods the brunet's face whilst he nods firmly, his right hand squeezed so tightly by his side it had begun to turn white. Sam gives a knowing nod even before Steve manages to ask to cover for him and the blond couldn't help but feel a burst of gratitude for having such a good friend.

Sitting at one of the window seats tucked away in the furthest corner of the room where no one sat, Bucky talked for hours — about his arm, how he had lost it while serving the army, how terrified he had been when he realised he had accidentally revealed it that day, and how he had wanted to come back to the shop earlier but had to get his life back on track, get some arm maintenance and attend lots of therapy he had missed out on the previous few months.

Steve just listens silently and by the time Bucky was finished, waiting in his seat with unshed tears gathering in his eyes, the blond walks around the table to gather the other man into his arms for a hug. Bucky finally breaks, sobs muffled as he cries into Steve's shirt, sinking into the warmth of the barista's body and his steady arms.

 

+1

It had been seven in the morning when the soft tinkle of the bell attached to the door notified Steve of the first customer for the day. Raising his head up with a welcoming smile, the grin on his face grew wider upon seeing the familiar man walking towards the counter.

Noting the lack of hair falling down the sides of Bucky's face, Steve couldn't help the glow creeping up his neck or the awe heard in his voice as he gasps, "You cut your hair!" Raising both eyebrows, the brunet leans on the counter with his left arm, an arrogant but nervous smile on his face. "You like it?" The barista feigns nonchalance, giving a small shrug of his shoulders like the sudden haircut wasn't anything to be excited over, while the thumping of his heart said entirely otherwise.

Barking out a laugh, Bucky shook his head with a good natured smile, slapping Steve's arm playfully. "I like it, a lot, alright? You look good," The blond states what he hopes was smoothly, then adding in a whisper, " _Beautiful, even. _" Bucky's head snaps up then, eyes wide while he positively beams, a flush dancing across his cheeks.__

____

____

Guess Steve had to work on his whispering skills.

Despite the embarrassment he felt from being heard, he couldn't take it back now, and besides, it was the truth. The haircut made Bucky look so much cleaner, _younger _, and it didn't hide his face like his long hair did, instead showing off his chiseled jawline and all his features. His hair also looked incredibly soft, which gave Steve the irresistible urge to run his fingers through them, and with the morning sunlight streaming through the glass panes behind the veteran, the rich brown strands looked like they were glowing.__

____

____

Snapping out of his daze, Steve cleared his throat with a grimace, scratching the back of his head shyly. "Oh! I have a new recipe to try out, I'll make it for you," The shop owner says in a rush, immediately turning behind to make the drink, desperate to distract himself from his overwhelming feelings. While the machine gave a low rumble, grinding down the coffee beans, Steve faced the brunet who still had a trace of the grin from earlier.

Despite no one else being in the shop, Steve picks up a sharpie anyway, shooting Bucky an impish smile as they fall into their usual tradition where the latter gave a fake name while the barista poked fun at it, before writing it down nonetheless. However, when the blond looks up after waiting far too long for Bucky to make up one of his hilarious names, the usual teasing smirk is gone from the man's face and a contemplative look has replaced it.

"James," Bucky says softly, almost timidly, eyes trained on the ground before he squares his shoulders and lifts up his head to look at Steve determinedly with a twinge of nervousness. "James Buchanan Barnes." This time he speaks loudly, with an unwavering amount of confidence and a calm look on his face. 

A beat of silence passes before the shocked expression on Steve turns into an awestruck ghost of a smile that makes a warm feeling bloom in Bucky's chest. Watching Steve scribble down his full name, trying, and failing, to tamp down on the growing grin overtaking his features, the veteran was glad that he made the decision to reveal his real name, mainly because of the look on Steve.

When Steve walks over to where Bucky was waiting at, by the same window they had sat at to talk all those weeks ago, the latter rises from the armchair, about to make a witty remark before getting cut off by a pair of lips suddenly on his. At first, their teeth knock together but slowly, gradually, they slot against one another and from there, everything is amazing and soft and _perfect _.__

____

____

Bucky feels fingers running through his hair, combing through and coming to a rest at the back of his neck, before Steve pulls away, his unfairly long lashes fluttering open to reveal softened eyes the colour of a late afternoon sky. "James," He breathes out feverishly and dreamily, like he can't believe it, can't believe this is happening, can't believe the man in front of him. 

"Bucky." He whispers softer, in a manner that makes Bucky's knees nearly buckle and unable to resist the urge to pull Steve back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope y'all enjoyed it!! Please feel free to leave a comment and visit me on Tumblr @OfficialHeroesOfOlympus .


End file.
